


Vigil

by AslansCompass



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11582268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AslansCompass/pseuds/AslansCompass
Summary: It never gets any easier, no matter how many times he's waited.





	Vigil

 Jenkins catches Cassandra immediately, his heart beating faster than it did the entire fight.  "Step aside. She needs a hospital, now!" She's limp, light, heavy, bringing to mind far too many bodies he's buried. 

No one argues. Back at the Library, he orders Stone to set the coordinates for Dr. Nassir, demands Jones contact Baird.  Flynn's ridiculous, over-the-top plans don't matter now. Oh, the man may think he was so sly and clever, but Jenkins knows exactly what Flynn's planned. That's why he's calling Baird instead. Flynn can be evasive at the best of times, but Baird won't stand for any nonsense. She's the Guardian,  not just Flynn's Guardian, the Guardian for all of them, and part of that means being there when there's nothing else to be done.

Front door, paging-Dr.-Nassir, emergency, prep-team,  clear-theater-31--and he's left to say ~~goodbye~~

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you,"  She looks so small, sounds so young. "I can process Euler's formula for polyhedra, but I can't process this."

 _This..._ the braced-for blow that still strikes harder than imagined. The prophesied betrayal unforeseen. "No need to apologize." His voice slips into command mode, the voice he used on the battlefield when he needed his men more afraid of him than angry hordes . "And don't you ever lie to me again." 

"I mean, even if I survive the surgery, I don't know who I am without this. It's what made me a Librarian."

"No, it did not make you a Librarian.  The Library did, and it didn't chose a tumor."  He remembers talking with Merlin once, hearing the old mage say something similar about the Sword Arthur drew from the Stone, and the latter gift of Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake.    _The Sword is drawn to the king; it identifies, not creates._ "It chose a person. Someone who I love very much." He manages to say the last sentence without quavering. 

"It's time," a nurse says. 

* * *

 He's used to it, but that never makes it any easier.  It's like standing on the edge of a cliff, watching the bridge crack and vanish beneath the flood. Standing on the far side, safe himself (oh, so safe, it's been a long time since he feared death, but life--ah, that's harder) and unable to do anything but wait. He looks over at the boys every few minutes.

He's never seen Jones so still.  For once, the thief isn't flirting with a receptionist or playing games on that phone--he's just sitting there, black shirt loosely buttoned.Must have lost the coat before the struggle. Someone should go and pick up all that stuff--whoever the new head vampire is won't appreciate having the equivalent of nuclear waste in their living room.

Ah, see. He's doing it again. Planning.  Contingencies. Reduce the damage.  All well and good, all necessary, but at the moment, it's merely a distraction. It won't help Cassandra (and when did he start using her name, even in his thoughts? He's seen so many come and go, too many to remember their names-- _it's just another excuse so it doesn't hurt as much--)._

Baird and Flynn rush in--something new, after all, he's never seen a Librarian and a Guardian together, whole, and yet so worried-- and he explains what Dr. Nassir told him. 

"She didn't tell us?" Baird covers her mouth.

Flynn pulls her into a hug and she doesn't pull away. 

"I'm sorry, I let you know as soon as--"

"This isn't your fault," Baird says dully.  "You're not the Guardian. I should have noticed, should have pressed more."

He remembers sitting in the Library after Sesselmann's attack, explaining the true nature of a Guardian's job...

 

> Yeah, well, I've always considered myself more of a caretaker than anything else, even in the old days. One doesn't live this long without learning how to repair broken bodies.  
> 

What could she have done?

>  They will not survive in this world without someone there, holding them steady.

He remembers Cassandra as they first met, Flynn babbling about tumors and synasthesia, quiet and unsure. The later missions, her bravery in the House of Refuge, binding Prospero,  standing up to trolls--he could claim so little of that. It had been Baird in the maze,  singing Apep away, even holding back Cassandra's hair as she threw up after the Dorian Gray incident.

"I think you were exactly what she need." Jenkins says softly. "She just didn't want to hurt us."

"Bullshit!" Stone yelled. "Didn't want to hurt us? Then she should have told us! What was she going to do, just drop dead in front of us one day? Did she think we'd just say 'oh, too bad,' and keep going."

"Whoa there mate--" Jones began.

"Back at the mine, remember that? She said she'd picked a day, a day to die on her own terms. Was this it? Was this supposed to be it? Did she do something?"

"No, no she didn't _do_ anything, as you so crudely put it. And what if she had?"

"Than I would have said--she shouldn't do anything without letting us know!" Stone's voice dropped. "You know, I'm gonna go get some coffee. Anybody want coffee?"

* * *

The clock must be broken. It's been at least an hour since he looked at it last, but it says five minutes.

* * *

Stone comes back with four lukewarm cafeteria coffees, not taking one for himself. No one mentions how bitter they taste.

* * *

 

 

Baird and Flynn fall asleep, heads leaning together. Jones is slumped over in his chair, but Stone remains awake, staring at the blank wall. "Get some rest," Jenkins says softly. 

"I can't--not till she wakes up--"

Part of him is touched that Stone can say till and not if.  "She'll drag you to bed herself if you don't rest. You were fighting vampires this afternoon, remember?" He doesn't normally mention Library work in public, but in the red-eye shift, no one is going to care what he says. 

"You did all the work. We just tried not to get killed." 

"Yes, well, I do have a few centuries more experience at that than you," 

Stone tries not to smile. "Yeah, I guess so."  He looks away, scuffs the floor.  "How do you do it?"

"Well, if you want to learn sword fighting, Mr. Carson is always glad for a chance to practice with Excalibur."

"Not that. When Cassandra collapsed--you knew what to do, you didn't freak out or anything. How did you stay so calm?"

Experience. Far too much experience. He sat down slowly, feeling every one of his years. 

* * *

At last, the doctor came out. "Jenkins."

His own name sounded strange. But he'd had to give a name when Cassandra was admitted, and he hadn't bothered to lie.  The others crowd around in a semi-circle. 

"Surgery was intense. The tumor was deeply entrenched."

"Doctor, just tell us. Is Cassandra...?" Baird couldn't finish.

"She's alive,"

Jenkins forces himself to listen to the rest. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Baird exhale, Jones pump the air.  There's so many hedges and conditionals, so much depending on how she is when she comes out from anesthesia, but the others don't hear that. They just heard "alive," and that's all they need for now.  Whatever the long-term effects, at least she's alive.

For today, that's enough.

  
  


'

 

 

 


End file.
